


Tales Tall as Cliffs

by asweetepilogue



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, forgive my shitty summary idk how to write them tbqh, i got this from a prompt on tumblr, it isn't :), this CAN be read as a gen fic but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetepilogue/pseuds/asweetepilogue
Summary: "You really thought I was dead?"Jaskier takes a hit during a hunt and Geralt panics.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 412
Collections: Abby's Witcher Collection





	Tales Tall as Cliffs

**Author's Note:**

> from [this prompt list](), #9: “You really thought I was dead?”

Geralt was more frantic than Jaskier had ever seen him.

In all their years of knowing each other, Geralt had always been the calm one. Jaskier fluctuated wildly between moods, he knew that about himself, and he was never quiet about any of them. Geralt was always the eye to Jaskier’s storm, steady and quiet and grounding. Even when he was fighting, he was in complete control every step of the way. Usually if his calm demeanor broke it was in a fit of anger, a snap here or a snarl there that he quickly reigned back in. Even in the most perilous of moments, he rarely showed anything even relatively approaching fear. 

Which was why it was so startling, now, to find an absolutely panicked witcher before him. They’d been fighting - well, Geralt had been fighting - a wyvern, rare for Velen any time of year. Geralt had been curious as to what could bring it to the lowlands, so far from the mountains and coasts, and several villages had pooled their resources to make the hunt worth their while. So, following Geralt’s keen senses, they had hunted the beast down to an abandoned tower that it had apparently decided to nest in. It had not been present when they’d arrived, likely out hunting. Geralt had swiftly climbed the tower and returned to report that the wyvern had laid several eggs - likely the reason she had remained in the lowlands. If she had gone into labor while hunting too far from home, she would not have been able to return. It was a sad story, Jaskier lamented. The wyvern didn’t even want to be here, stealing sheep and threatening the locals, any more than they wanted her around. Geralt had shrugged as if to say,  _ that’s just the way things are, Jaskier. _

So, they had decided to track the beast down further, Geralt hoping to catch it right after eating so that it was more lethargic. The flat fields had slowly turned into forest, a steep ravine opening gradually to the east. Geralt had walked the treacherous path with confidence, Jaskier lagging slightly behind as he tailed. He dared not complain, knowing that Geralt would just tell him to stay behind and he might risk not seeing the battle first hand. 

Finally they had caught up to the wyvern. It was sitting in a clearing, it’s tail hanging into the ravine carelessly as it tore into a deer carcass. Geralt held up one hand before they even came into view, telling Jaskier to stay put. Then he stalked forward, drawing his sword to begin the fight.

Jaskier had watched the battle with rapt attention, as always. He couldn’t risk taking notes while so close to the fray - despite what Geralt often said, he wasn’t actually an idiot - so he tried to take in every detail that he could. Hiding half behind a tree, he felt fairly secure and out of harm's way.

That was, until the wyvern jumped over Geralt, its wings stretching wide, and came straight for him. Trying to gain distance from the witcher, she blew past Jaskier and pushed deeper into the woods. Which would have been fine, if the tail hadn’t whipped past and hit him right in the chest, sending him tumbling over the edge of the ravine. 

_ “Jaskier!” _

He felt the wind leave his lungs in a rush as the heavy appendage slammed into him, and then he was in free fall. Only a few feet down he tumbled over an outcropping of rock and reached out, his hand snagging the edge. His feet dangled over the chasm below, some forty feet to the ground. Looking down, he swallowed heavily. A fall like that might not kill a witcher, but it certainly would a lowly human bard. With a grunt he swung his other hand up to grab the rock where it jutted out, his feet scrambling for purchase to push himself higher. He wasn’t exceptionally well known for his upper body strength, but he found that adrenaline was a powerful ally. And being on the road for so long, he wasn’t exactly the layabout that he might have been in his youth. 

The sounds of the fight continued above him, so there would be no help from those quarters. Taking a shallow breath, Jaskier continued his slow ascent, laboriously searching for handholds and trying to maintain his footing as he went. At one point a root that he’d grabbed came loose from the stone wall and he thought he would fall, his heart in his throat as his arm flung out over the ravine. He pulled himself back close to the wall, stilling for a few long minutes while he tried to get his bearings again. Above him, he heard the wyvern give a great cry and then fall silent.

He was only about a foot away from the top when Geralt’s head peaked over the side, golden eyes wide as they landed on Jaskier’s face. He reached down a hand.

“About time,” Jaskier grumbled, accepting it. He found himself quickly pulled back to level ground, with what seemed like barely any effort on Geralt’s part. As soon as he’d crawled over the top and far enough away from the ledge to breathe easily again, there were heavy hands all over him, looking for injuries. 

“Are you hurt?” Geralt asked, his voice strained. Jaskier ignored him, taking a moment to look the witcher over himself. It didn’t look like he had sustained any injuries, but the way he spoke made it sound like he had been punched in the gut. “Jaskier, are you - Did you hit anything, your ribs -” He traced his hands down over Jaskier’s chest, prodding his ribcage gently. It did smart a bit, but that wasn’t what held Jaskier’s attention. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, confused by the anxiety he sensed in Geralt. Reaching out, he touched the witcher’s shoulder hesitantly. 

Geralt stared at him, his catlike pupils blown wide. “Am I - Am  _ I  _ alright?” he asked, sounding shocked, and perhaps a little angry. Jaskier winced. “Jask, you almost -” He cut himself off, his gaze dragging over to the edge of the ravine. He was panting, chest heaving like it almost never did, even after a fight. 

“Oh,” Jaskier said, following Geralt’s line of sight. “You really thought, you thought I died? That I fell?”

Geralt closed his eyes, breathing in sharply. “I saw you get hit, and go over,” he said, his tone haunted. His brow was furrowed as if in pain. “The wyvern turned around to come back at me and I had to fend it off, I couldn’t see you, I thought you’d - that you’d -” He stopped, swallowing heavily.

“Aw,” Jaskier said, lifting his hands to cup Geralt’s jaw. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Geralt’s eyes flashed open, and now he did look angry. “I care,” he bit out, and then reached forward to pull Jaskier into a crushing hug.

At first he was too startled to react, but the embrace lasted long enough that he managed to get his arms working again. He pulled them out from where they were pressed against Geralt’s chest and wrapped them around his back, pressing his palms into the leather armor. “I know,” he said, most softly now. “I know, it’s okay. I’m alright.”

Geralt pressed his face into Jaskier’s neck and just breathed, and Jaskier pet down his back and his hair until he felt the minute shivers across the witcher’s body still. Reluctantly he pulled back, giving Geralt’s cheek one last caress, because he couldn’t help himself. When he took his hand away, Geralt leaned after it slightly, chasing him. The action made Jaskier’s cheeks flame, though he hoped Geralt couldn’t tell. 

“Come on,” he said. “We should go collect our reward so that I can soak these ribs in an actual bath tonight, hmm?” He offered a hand down to help Geralt up, and to his surprise the witcher actually took it. The other man’s hand was warm in his grasp, the sword calluses in exact opposition to the ones Jaskier carried from years of playing the lute. They slotted together perfectly, like a key fitting into a lock.

They made their way back to the village side by side, and Geralt didn’t release his hand until they reached the signpost. 

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this to take a break from a longer fic i've been working on! hoping to post the first chapter of that within a few days, but I wanted to get at least the first five ish done before posting. this was nice to work on in between grand plans haha  
> I have a [tumblr!]() Come send me a prompt or rant with me about these boys


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